lotus sheds its bloom

in stellar plumes.

the water walk,

a choice to climb,

a cryptic gift

as mud drips 

from the tip of a naked toe.


bellowing below,

the din of matter attests,

i am no cave dweller.

barbed, dulce berry

tart on my tongue,

i concede 

to the seamless weave

of deepest being,

without sacrifice

of the felt sense.

love is made 

on every rung.


© M.G. Iannucci 2017

Art: To Another Reality by Vimark

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